


Like a hook into an eye

by MsIzzyBee



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, D/s undertones, Fuckbuddies To Lovers, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Way softer than originally intended
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-19
Updated: 2020-09-07
Packaged: 2020-09-08 03:50:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20301160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsIzzyBee/pseuds/MsIzzyBee
Summary: He's always known he isn’t a good person. That there is something wrong, right down to the core of him.Or, alternatively: Ben is struggling after his breakup with Rey. Hux helps as best he can.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Please note, there is past Reylo here. I didn't tag it as it only appears in brief flashbacks.

"What u doin this wkend?" Ben types one handed, grabbing for his beer bottle with the other.

"Getting drunk on cabernet n watching pride n prejudice with hux." Phasma responds almost ten minutes later.

He shifts lower onto his couch, feet propped up on the worn coffee table. "So, the usual Vday plans."

"Ha. Fuck you" and then "Why? You want in since youve now joined us in singlehood?"

"Sure." He takes another gulp.

"7pm. BYOB." and then, 20 seconds later "And your own snacks sasquatch"

The Uber ride to Phasma's hip, downtown building is quiet; the rusted red Honda Civic smells faintly of cigarettes and cheap, floral perfume. The woman driving is older and has the radio on low to some news station he can't quite make out.  
He's grateful she doesn't recognize him, although that doesn't happen as often any more.

There's the "Kylo Ren? The Kylo Ren? Oh, shit!"  
and the dreaded  
"My son is a huge fan. Can I take a picture?"  
and even worse  
"I'm so sorry about your accident. What a shame."

He rests his head against the window and watches his dark, sleepy neighborhood fade into glass, concrete and the blurry streaks of streetlights.  
Rey had always thought it was silly he lived "so far out". Really, a 35 minute drive to downtown was nothing. But she had grown up in some shack in rural New Mexico with the nearest Wal-Mart 45 minutes away. She had enough of isolation - she was hungry for the city and all its people.

As for him, he wanted to be left alone. He had been worried, initially, when he got the job as a janitor at the small, private college at the edge of the city. It turns out that kids almost a decade younger than him weren't the keenest on youth world boxing champions from eleven years ago. Or 20-something MMA fighters who had risen like a wildfire, only to be cut down in their prime.  
He's never been recognized a lot after the accident, and the occurrences are getting even rarer. It could be his longer hair, the fact that he's almost put on 30 more pounds of mostly muscle - or the scar.

There aren't a lot of pictures of him with the scar.

He nods at the doorman as he pushes into the lobby of Phasma's building, ducking his head and squinting at the bright lights. He shifts as he waits for the elevator and catches a glimpse of himself in an ornamental mirror - black hoodie under a leather jacket; his dark wavy hair just a few more skipped haircuts to touching his shoulders. He feels like a speck of dirt in a sterile lab; unwelcome, infectious. He rides the elevator alone up to the 29th floor and rubs his scar distractedly, temple to jaw, temple to jaw.

He really should've had more than two shots before leaving.

Hux answers Phasma's door, which isn't a surprise - Phasma is always delegating. He's soft-looking; more undressed than Ben has ever seen him in his old wireless glasses, faded college t-shirt and sweatpants.

"Oh," Hux starts, running a hand through his hair - loose and brighter without all the product. "I didn't realize you were coming."

"Phasma said it was BYOB, but I'm not a fan of cabernet". He says, lifting an eyebrow and wagging the bourbon wrapped in brown paper. He shoulders past Hux and tugs his boots off. He doesn't want to dirty the place more than necessary.

He makes his way to the kitchen for a glass to pour his bourbon in and pretends not to notice Hux's barely concealed panic at his appearance. Phasma's open floor plan is a poor place to try to have a private conversation, and he bites is lip trying not to laugh at Hux's flurry of silent hand gestures to Phasma. She seems unconcerned and barely moves from where he's tracking her out of the corner of his eye. Phasma doesn't suffer fools. Which is why he's always been surprised at her tolerance for Hux.

"I didn't think you would actually show up." She drawls from where's she's sprawled on her crisp white couch. "You've been a hermit lately."

"You've missed the first seven minutes of the movie." Hux says, sitting ramrod straight on the the matching loveseat.

"I'll live." He watches his glass fill and relaxes at the familiar _glub, glub, glub_. "I'm sure it hasn't changed since the last time I saw it. " With Rey. Before Thanksgiving, cuddled on the couch and drinking hot toddies; her fuzzy socks rubbing along his calves.

Phasma pointedly doesn't move an inch, leaving Ben and Hux on the loveseat. A few minutes into the movie, somewhere during the first ball scene where Mrs. Bennett is drunkenly embarrassing herself, Ben shifts lower into the seat.

Hux is utterly still as Ben's thigh presses against his own. Ben watches him take a long drink of his wine before setting down his glass on the sleek black end table. As the blue-green light of the screen reflects onto Hux's glasses, he wonders if Hux thinks it's an accident their thighs are touching. At this point, he's trying for subtlety; best not to tip off Phasma his plans on getting some action on her fold-out couch later.

The thing is, Hux has had a crush on him for years.

He's never really flirted with Ben; at least not traditionally. In fact, most of their conversation consists of barely concealed insults. But Ben knows how Hux looks at him when he thinks he's not looking, and especially when he's drinking.

He tries to focus on his plan as the movie drones on, but he keeps getting swept up memories of Rey. How they had watched this only a week before they broke up, spooned on the couch; he none the wiser about the turmoil she had been apparently suppressing for years.

_"What do you want me to do?" He begged grabbing her hand as they sat on the couch._   
_ "Nothing, Ben." She stared at their joined hands, his palm encompassing hers. "I just can't do this anymore." She looked up at him with shining eyes, her voice cracked. "I can't fix you."_

He's always known he wasn't a good person. That there is something wrong, right down to the core of him. But Rey is a good person, and he had thought her loving him had made him also good. Good by proxy.

It hadn't.

Phasma had taken him out two weeks afterward. They had sat in a cramped corner of some dive, swilling cheap beer and talking as little as possible.

"You need to move on." She had said, ever direct.

What she didn't realize was Rey _had_ been him moving on. From his past, from fighting, from the accident. Rey had been his shiny new future, and now she was gone.

There was no moving on from that, no healing. Only pain management.

He bites the rim of his glass, the sound jarring him out of his own head. He's here. He has a purpose. _Focus._

He decides the end table next to Hux is a better place to put his drink than the dark hardwood floor on his own side. He reaches over, bracing a hand on Hux's thigh as he sets the glass down with a cold thud. This close, he can smell Hux; bright, clean, and almost certainly expensive. Ben's lips quirk. Hux can rail against predatory capitalism and the plight of the poor all he wants, but he's sure as hell not buying Old Spice.

They play this game throughout the rest of the movie. Ben places a hand on Hux's thigh each time he reaches over him to grab his drink and then set it back down. Hux, for his part, doesn't initiate any contact. He also doesn't shift away. He's still - as if some primordial instinct has kicked in and staying absolutely still will spare him from the jaws of the predator.

Not happening.

"What a surpise." Hux deadpans as the credits roll. "They end up happily ever after."

"It was pretty hairy there for a minute, " Ben concedes, giving Hux's thigh a quick squeeze as he sets his empty glass on the end table. "I wasn't sure they'd end up together this time."

Phasma grunts as she pulls herself up from the couch. "Well, hope your Uber driver isn't a murderer. Goodnight."

"I'm drunk," He says, maybe too quickly. "Can't I stay here?"

"No room at the inn," Phasma frowns from where she's stopped, dead in front of them. "I already told Hux he could have the couch."

"It pulls out right? I'm sure we could share."

The look Phasma gives him almost changes his mind. Almost. She's not impressed, that's for sure. She knows what he's doing, and she doesn't like it.  
Kylo knows it has nothing to do with her supposed closest friend being used as a pawn, but rather her couch has to suffer the indignity of his seduction.

"I'll be gone before you wake up." He tries.  
"No," She says and turns. "Hux will be gone before I wake up." She stops at the hallway and sneers at him. "Your hungover ass will still be here at 11 wondering if I'm going to make breakfast. "

Her bedroom door shuts sternly and _fuck_, he really didn't figure in Phasma's possible refusal into his equation.

"Ignore her," Hux murmurs, startling him. "You can stay. She's just had a shit day."

They brush their teeth in the hallway powder room. Hux uses the spare he keeps there while Ben uses his pointer finger and a big glob of toothpaste. He stands closer to Hux than necessary, close enough to smell that citrusy cologne from earlier. He wonders if Hux knows what's coming.

They unfold the pull-out couch and throw a sheet from the linen closet over the mattress. Hux's movements are slow and slightly sloppy so Ben moves even slower, still pretending at being tipsy. After all, it's the reason he asked to stay. They flip off the lamps and light switches; Phasma's expansive windows overlooking the twinkling city filling the space with an odd, unreal light. They settle into the pull out, Hux in the sweatpants he wore there and Ben in his jeans and undershirt. The borrowed pillow is flat and slightly scratchy under his cheek.

"So, who picked Pride and Prejudice?" He asks while on his side, facing Hux.

"Oh, I did." Hux sighs and throws an arm over his eyes like he's embarrassed. It would be cute on anyone else.

"Big fan of Regency romance?"

"Fuck you." Hux swallows, arm still over his eyes. "It's a classic."

"So," Ben grins and scoots closer, lowering his voice conspiratorially, "Are you looking for your Mr. Bingley or Mr. Darcy?"

"Fuck. Off" Hux rolls to his side, his back to Ben.

Ben laughs, it's almost too easy.

"Can't take a little teasing, Armie?" He shifts over, his chest against Hux's back and a hand on his hip. Hux freezes at the contact.

"I don't like -" Ben can hear him swallow, clench his teeth, "being made fun of."

"But you're so fun to rile up." The hand on Hux's hip slides down, over his soft t-shirt and pressing lightly against his belly. Ben's hips are flush with Hux's ass, and he's half hard already.

Hux still hasn't moved, hasn't said anything. A spike of doubt guts him: has he miscalculated? Is Hux over his little crush?

"Either touch my dick or get the fuck off me." Hux's snarls softly to the darkness. Ben lets out out a wet huff against Hux's nape, and slides his hand down and grasps him through his soft sweatpants.

_Fuck._ He's rock hard in his hand, and the realization that he's like that, after Ben has barely touched him, has him thrusting reflexively, the sweet friction of _not enough._

"Fuck, baby" He mutters, and nips at Hux's ear. Hux is breathing hard, pushing back against him as Ben continues to thrust against him mindlessly. Hux wants him so bad, he'd probably let Ben grind on him until he came in his pants. Would probably get Ben off without getting off himself. _Fuck_. Heat pools in his gut. He wonders how far he can push him. He wonders how much Hux wants him.

He needs to know.

"Do you want to blow me?"

"Yes, I - yes." Hux turns over and fumbles to remove their blanket. Ben lays on his back, watching through his eyelashes as Hux pushes up his t-shirt and runs his hand over Ben's stomach. They work together to pull down his jeans and boxers to his thighs, his cock twitching when Hux's cool hand brushes past.

Ben knows this is stupid, fucking around in Phasma's living room like this. For a terrible second he feels ridiculous, exposed - what is he _doing?_ But then Hux is settling over him, his knees on either side of Ben's and he's giving Ben's dick wet, open-mouthed kisses from base to tip.

"Fuck, you're big." Hux murmurs in the crease of his thigh. Ben bites his lip and watches Hux lick a stripe up his palm. He gives Ben a long, firm stroke and feeds the tip into his warm, wet mouth.

He grabs Hux's shoulders to steady himself as Hux bobs his head, his lips stretched wide. He struggles to work his way down Ben's cock, breath wet and ragged. He gets about halfway down when he pulls off with a noisy inhale, still working Ben's cock with one hand as he coughs into the crook of his other elbow; even that has him curling his toes, thrusting into Hux's sure grip.

He briefly wonders if Hux will just jerk him off like that; Ben is a bit longer than normal, sure, but he's _thick_.

But Hux is single-minded, resolute. Of course he is.

He goes back to work, mouth slippery around Ben's cock. He can make out the faintest glimmer of tears on Hux's eyelashes. Ben shudders - and wonders.  
He watches his hand move from Hux's shoulder to clamp down on the nape of his neck. He tightens his fingers and fucks up into Hux's mouth - hard. He makes a wet, choking sound below him, but he doesn't move away. Ben readjusts his grip, palm starting to sweat, and thrusts up again.

Hux groans softly, but doesn't move. Ben inhales and does it again, harder. He fucks Hux's mouth like he's fantasized about after drunken, vicious arguments about nothing important. He's transfixed by the sight; his wet cock pushing into Hux's mouth again and again. Hux's hair loose and soft, tears that had been caught in his eyelashes making their slow, starlit way down his cheeks. He's breathing too loud and starting to sweat; a bead rolls down from his hairline and his fingers keep slipping from their grip on Hux's soft neck.

He can't believe it; Hux is just _taking_ it, whatever Ben gives him. And it feels so fucking good.

It also makes him hate Hux even more, and he pushes his head down, down and thrusts up hard. Hux startles and makes a soft, hurt noise and Ben jerks and comes, comes, comes down his throat.

Hux is slumped half on top of him, head resting on the crease of his thigh. His ragged, wet breaths make something in Ben's gut twist. He wants Hux off of him.

"Here," he grunts, and shifts to tip Hux on his side. Hux squirms his way up so his head is resting near Ben's again. His arm is over his eyes, and he's still breathing too loudly.  
He's also still tenting his sweatpants. Ben grabs the waistband of Hux's pants. Hux hisses as it catches his cock, and Ben leaves them bunched around his thighs. Hux is straining in his black briefs. Hux is also staring at him, the arm that had been flung around his eyes now removed. His eyes are black pits, and Ben looks away.

"Touch yourself." He says, focusing on the way Hux's hand's twitch at his side. He watches Hux's pale, slim fingers hook around his briefs and tug them down just below his balls. His hand inches towards his cock, which Ben admits is not ugly. He grasps himself at the base, and slowly, shakily strokes upward.

"What are you doing?" Ben hears himself hiss. Hux stiffens, and Ben can almost hear his panicked thoughts. It sends a rush down his belly; he'd be hard again if he could.  
"You're going to get come all over." He chides, still focusing on the way Hux's hand is frozen on his cock. "Push your shirt up."

Hux does as he asks, and he allows gaze to work its way up from his soft belly to his small, pale nipples barely visible in the darkness.

"Alright." He says and Hux shivers. He starts stroking his cock again, pausing to spread the wetness leaking from his tip. "Get your hand wet." He murmurs and Hux complies, licking a stripe up his palm.

Hux jerks himself quickly, panting softly in the stone stillness of the apartment. Hux's free hand bunches in the sheets and his feet kick weakly. It's not enough, Ben can tell. Of course Hux has to be difficult about this.

"Are you imagining I'm fucking you?" He rumbles, shifting closer until his lips touch the shell of Hux's ear. Hux's eyes have snapped shut, his teeth sunk into his lower lip.  
"Are you thinking about my cock inside you? Filling you up?"

Hux whimpers in the back of his throat, his eyes are still squeezed shut and his face contorts, as if in pain. Ben wants to bite his pale neck, slap his tear-stained cheek. 

"Needy slut." He sneers, and Hux arches like he's been shot; back bowing, frozen, as he spills all over his belly and chest - sweat and come glistening in the dim light.

It's still dark outside when he jerks awake, blinking blearily as he tries to remember where he is. Hux freezes where he's perched on the edge of the sofa bed.

"I didn't mean to wake you." He mutters, and goes back to rooting around the side of the couch.

"It's fine" he croaks out, and plops his head back onto the pillow. Ben watches him fish his phone out from beneath the pullout. Hux gathers his things in the gray predawn light, stepping carefully, quietly around Phasma' apartment. He doesn't look at Ben again until he's buttoning his black pea coat, shoes already tied and hair falling soft around his eyes despite his attempts at brushing it back.

He glances at Ben and gives him a sort of half smile that looks more like a grimace, and quietly shuts the door behind him. Ben tries to go back to sleep after that, tossing and turning in the sofa bed that he only now seems to realize is incredibly uncomfortable. He ends up tucked on his side, staring at a patch of floor that gets brighter and brighter as the sun spills in.

He finally gets up and dresses, even folds the blankets and puts the sofa bed back.

Fuck Phasma and her assumptions, he's a good guest.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow that postpartum depression sure is a bitch. I originally planned for a longer story, but this ended up becoming a bit shorter and way less angsty.

It’s 10:30 am on a Saturday and Ben has already ran 3 miles, showered, eaten breakfast and cleaned up the kitchen. He’s also only checked Rey’s social media two times today; refreshing the same pages over and over again with absolutely no change from when she last posted - 3 weeks before their breakup.

It’s driving him crazy that he doesn’t know what she’s doing. She could still be sleeping, (unlikely) or finishing her morning yoga. Maybe grading papers at the kitchen table, sunlight bouncing off a freckled shoulder. Her coffee gone cold as she pores over some dumb 10th graders English essay.

He wonders how she’s sleeping, crashing on the couch in her co-worker Rose and their friend Finn’s apartment. Apparently, their 1 bedroom apartment was ‘too suffocating’ to even spend another moment in.

He snarls and grabs a sponge, heading to the bathroom. If he doesn’t keep his hands busy he’ll punch a hole in the wall. Again.

He starts scrubbing the sink, all the cleaner now for the lack of another person's use.

He hadn’t been there when she moved out. He had crashed at Phasmas for the entire weekend, even though Rey had texted him Saturday afternoon that she was done.

When he finally went back home after work on Monday he was surprised with how little the apartment changed without her in it. It was his apartment originally,and she had moved in shortly after they began dating. Mostly at his insistence when he learned she was basically couch surfing between old college friends, and living in her car when she couldn’t.

She never had a lot of things, growing up like she did. So there were only little reminders - the school calendar removed from the fridge, her worn out tennis shoes missing from the doorway.

He had found, in total, 5 bobby pins she had left scattered throughout the apartment. He had gathered them reverently and placed them in the bathroom cupboard she had once taken over.

She had changed his life so much, but there was barely any evidence she had even been there. She had removed herself from his life with surgical precision.

And now she was living a new life with Finn and Rose.

_Finn_.

At the end, when it got ugly, he accused her of cheating with him. She had looked shocked, hurt.

“ We’re just friends,” She had said calmly, her eyes shining with tears. “Something you would know about if--” She stopped short, and turned away.

_If you had any._

It was the cruelest thing she had ever said to him, and she hadn’t even finished the sentence.

He still misses her.

He scrubs harder at the calcium white buildup covering the shitty, ancient faucet.

Rey is out there; living and breathing in the same city but she might as well be on another planet for all Ben is able to reach her.

His fingers twitch, and the compulsion to check his texts, his email, her social media - _anything_ is overwhelming. He breathes in heavily through his nose and tosses the sponge into the sink.

He wipes his hands off on his jeans and tells himself he’s only going to check his texts. Maybe Phasma wants to get lunch. Maybe Hux has finally tired of whatever ‘hard to get’ game he’s playing.

He has no new messages.

He frowns as he resumes scrubbing the sink.

It’s been two weeks since the Valentine’s Day incident with Hux and it’s like he’s fallen off the face of the Earth. He’s thought about texting Hux several times - but what would he say?

“Did you know wine turns you into a slut?” or “ Want to blow me again sometime?”

He grunts as he drops to his knees, turning his attention to scrubbing the cracked, faded linoleum.

He knows it’s ironic -- he’s a janitor for the college five days a week. And what does he do in his limited free time? Fucking clean.

He can’t stand chaos, though. Growing up, and for so many years after -- he was never sure where he belonged, if he belonged. With Luke - becoming his boxing protege. Becoming, for a brief time, an UFC wonderboy.

And then, the accident. After that he drifted - catching on to whoever took interest in him.

But that was then.

Here, in his own space, he’s in control. And he’s not going to have dirty fucking bathroom floors.

He grimaces as he scrubs just a little too hard. His back still tightens up when he pushes it-- another gift that keeps on giving from the accident. His knee though - that had been bothering him years before he totalled the motorcycle and bled all over the highway.

His manual labor job probably doesn’t help, but he does his stretches like the physical therapist had ordered.

But, it could be worse. If there’s one thing he’s learned - it can always be worse.

He’s laying on his bed that evening after dinner, checking Hux’s limited social media accounts that are rarely updated. Had he died and nobody had told him? He was sure Hux would’ve texted him by now. Hell, he assumed he’d get something the very next day. Hux would play coy, say something like “I hope this won’t make things awkward between us.” or “I hope we can remain civil” (like they ever were). It would progress from there, somehow ending with Ben grumbling but taking an Uber to Hux’s sleek apartment. He’d have him on his hands and knees, Hux sobbing into the mattress as Ben fucked him hard, without mercy.

Hux would be grateful, of course he would be. And Ben would continue to fuck him until he no longer needed to. Until the thing crawling underneath his skin went away. Until Rey came to her senses and realized she made a mistake leaving him.

Instead, there’s only been silence.

Phasma hasn’t said anything either. He half-expected to be sent a bill for her couch being professionally cleaned. But their Thursday lifts at the gym have been suspiciously normal. She hasn’t mentioned anything and Ben is almost disappointed. Had Hux not said anything to her? Hux has had a crush on him forever - it would be just like him to brag about his conquest to Phasma.

Or if he had said anything, maybe it was nothing good. His blood runs cold. He sits up suddenly, his vision tilting sideways.

What if Hux was disappointed?

Ben could almost hear him, that faint snobbish accent. “All those years...turns out I wasn’t missing much”.

He scrambles out of bed and heads for the doorway. He grabs his running shoes and starts tying them- bending over like this, he feels nauseous.

He needs to get out of here.

———————

It's Saturday and Phasma is hosting a St. Patrick's Day party. He's not sure of much else, besides the fact it's 9:00pm and he's already a little wobbly.

Hux hasn’t come up to talk to him. Which is fine. Who wants to talk to Hux anyways? Ugh. It’s all “work this” or “work that” or “did you read the latest story on wind energy in China?”

Hux is leaning against the breakfast bar in the kitchen. His long, pale hands gesturing excitedly as Doph looks on, enraptured. Ben rolls his eyes and takes a drink. He winces a little at the taste of cheap (mostly) rum and coke.

Hux could talk about laundry and Doph would be enthralled. He wonders why those two have never dated, when Doph is so obviously infatuated. It’s almost embarrassing. Who would have a crush on Hux?

Hux has never brought anybody around, at least not that Ben knows of. He assumes that Hux only dates men like himself: successful, well dressed, cosmopolitan and educated.

He assumes he looks rough to Hux, that Hux likes him because he's big and scarred. A bit of rough trade to fool around with, but no one he would invite to Thanksgiving. Someone to put him on his hands and knees and fuck him into the mattress. As if Ben wasn’t on the honor roll all throughout high school and was on a scholarship to the University of Chicago. Well, before he dropped out. Before Snoke.

He pushes off from his place against the wall, deciding he needs more ice from the freezer. It’s when he’s only a few feet from Hux, who is pointedly not looking at him, when he hears Poe.

“You’re not wearing green!” Poe has his hand on Hux’s shoulder, looking on with exaggerated disappointment.

“No, I’m not.” Hux fidgets.

“But you’re Irish”

“Yes. Half- technically.” Huxs pale hands are clenched at his sides. “But thankfully the IRA won’t hunt me down for disloyalty for wearing white on such an occasion.”

“Lucky for us then, you’re safe and sound” Poe grins, a little too close to Huxs face.

“Oh shit, sorry man!” He apologizes as he shoulder-checks Poe on the way to the fridge. He sees Hux slink away out of the corner of his eye.

“All good, friend.” Poe clasps his bicep, maybe a little too hard.

“Where’s Finn? Thought you two were attached at the hip.” Ben can’t help himself.

Poe’s grin is sharp.

“I’m guessing he’s with Rey.”

“Because they live together.” Ben says slowly, watching Poe’s throat work as he takes a too big gulp of beer.

“Because they’re dating.” Poe is triumphant and bitter, and his teeth clack against his beer bottle as he takes another drink.

Ben feels his face go hot, the edges around Poe blurring.

_Dating_.

But she had said. No. She had been so mad at him when he had suggested….

He goes to the bathroom half blind, stumbling, feeling drunker than he should. He pukes up the chicken wrap he had he made hours before, spitting strings of bile into the toilet.

There’s a sheen in sweat above his lip and at his temples, and he splashes some cold water on his face after pilfering some of Phasma a mouthwash under the sink.

He leaves the bathroom with a single purpose: find Hux.

Hux is surprisingly easy to find. He’s sat up against Phasma’s breakfast bar, drink looking virtually untouched, scowling and typing away at his phone.

He looks like he just came from the office; crisp white button-down shirt rolled precisely to mid-forearm.

He’s working. Ben almost laughs out loud. He’s having a crisis at a St. Patrick’s day party filled with random 30-somethings too old or tired to go to the bar, and the best prospect he has for getting laid is a CTO who is answering work emails on a Saturday night.

Ben makes his way to him, ignoring anyone he passes by. He leans heavily on the bar, looming into Huxs space.

“Let’s get out of here.” He doesn’t phrase it as a question. He’s not giving Hux the chance to say no.

Hux startles, eyes snapping away from his phone. He frowns a little, but doesn’t say anything and he grabs his drink and downs it in a few spectacular gulps.

“Let me get my coat.”

They leave without saying goodbye to anyone.

“Uber should be here in 5 minutes”. Hux offers as they walk down the hallway to the elevator, shoving his phone into his coat pocket. The black peacoat is expensive and well made, and Ben is annoyed with himself at noticing how good Hux looks in it.

The ride to Hux’s condo is torture. He’s not that drunk, is the thing. He’s keenly aware of Hux’s faint citrusy aftershave, the way the neon lights from the street bounce off of his cheekbones.

He closes his eyes. This was a mistake. The adrenaline from earlier is fading, and now he’s going to Hux’s where he has to _perform_.

He tries to hold onto the floaty, not real feeling from earlier. He follows Hux out of the cab and into the building. He leans into him as they take the elevator up up _up_.

He keeps his eyes on the nape of Huxs neck as he turns the key to his lock.

They take their shoes and coats off in silence. Hux leads them to the bedroom. His condo is dark; the wide windows overlooking the balcony offering the only light.

The bedroom has the same floor to ceiling windows, and in the cool gray light Ben can see an impeccably made bed with a dark comforter, and a dark wooden dresser with a matching nightstand on one side of the bed. The nightstand is empty, except for Hux’s glasses and an old fashioned alarm clock.

Ben sits down heavily onto the bed- the fight has gone out of him.

Rey is with Finn.

He’s such an idiot.

Hux doesn’t look at him as he takes off his watch and sets it the nightstand, next to his glasses.

“Lay back. I’ll blow you.” It sounds like a command more than a suggestion, and Ben sighs with relief as he lays his head against a pillow and Hux takes charge.

Hux kneels between his spread thighs, still fully dressed. He runs a hand up Ben’s jean clad thigh.

He narrows his eyes. “Better take off your shirt.”

“Yeah?” Ben huffs as hell complies. “Get in the way?”

“No, I just want to see you without your shirt on.” Hux replies primly.

He cups Ben’s mostly soft cock through his jeans, his hands warm even through the fabric. He leans down and places a hot, open-mouth kiss against it and Ben’s dick twitches; a muscle memory of what Hux’s mouth can do.

Ben fumbles with his jeans button and lets Hux unzip him, both of them working to take his pants off. His briefs are next, and Ben raises an eyebrow at how Hux just tosses them on the floor next to the bed. It’s as close to untidy as Hux gets. 

Hux runs his hands from Ben’s calves to his thighs and up his chest.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful. ” Hux mutters.

Ben turns his head away. “You’re just drunk. I’ll be ugly again in the morning.”

“Oh, shut up.” Ben can practically hear Hux rolling his eyes, and then Hux’s mouth is on him and _fuck_.

If possible, it’s better than the first time. He’s not worried about Phasma walking in; and Hux is fully clothed in white shirtsleeves and working his beautiful mouth on his cock like he’s starving for it.

He throws a forearm over his eyes, but his other hand snakes down to clutch at Hux’s hair. It’s soft, and he grips a fistful as he bites back a moan. Tries not to choke Hux as he thrusts up into his perfect, wet mouth.

Hux rakes fingernails down his thighs and Ben hisses at the feel-good sting of it. He grips Hux’s hair tighter but it’s so soft it’s almost slippery between his fingers. Hux’s mouth- it’s so fucking good, so warm and wet and hungry around him. He just needs a little more. He bites his lip and tries to thrust just a little further, chasing the tightness of Hux’s throat.

Hux chokes a little, and without pulling off slaps Bens thigh- _hard_.

His vision goes white as he thrashes and comes down Hux’s throat, hips thrusting in and in and _in_.

He drags his arm away from his eyes to see Hux wiping the cum from his mouth with the back of his hand, hair falling against his forehead, chest heaving. If he could he’d come again, right over that pretty pale neck, so tantalizing in the moonlight.

He drifts, the scattered light from the windows keeping him from total unconsciousness. He’s startled by a glass of water and two Advil placed on the nightstand.

“You should eat something too, to soak up the alcohol. ” Hux instructs. He’s in soft sleep shorts and a t-shirt.

“I have some bread in the toaster now. I only have butter, so I hope that’s acceptable.” He raises an eyebrow that dares Ben to say otherwise.

Unfortunately, Ben can’t help himself.

“No avocado? What kind of millennial are you?” Ben groans, scrubbing at his face.

“Avocados are disgusting.” Hux sniffs and turns away. “Come out to the kitchen when you get dressed- I don’t want crumbs in my sheets.”

Ben pulls on his briefs but leaves the rest on the floor to spite him.


End file.
